


To Tell You the Truth

by notmadderred



Series: Bad Things Happen Bingo [1]
Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Bad Things Happen Bingo, Forced Out of the Closet, Homophobic Language, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-19
Updated: 2019-05-19
Packaged: 2020-03-08 00:55:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18884821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notmadderred/pseuds/notmadderred
Summary: “Dude, Iliterallyjust told you,” Grif drawled, and it sounded so much like the real him that something tore in Simmons' chest. It wasn’t real. Thiswasn’tGrif. “You have to tell me the truth.”Simmons narrowed his eyes. “That’s not helping.”“Yeah, well, not my problem. I don’t give a rat’s ass if you’re stuck here. And if you don’t tell me, I’ll just take a nap. Win-win for me.”“I-- ugh. I don’t even know what ‘truth’ you’re talking about! How can I get out if I don’t even know what the fuck it is?”





	To Tell You the Truth

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know if I've missed any tags.
> 
> Inspired by recent RvB episodes -- the whole nightmare-scape thing (17x11)

_“You know what you have to do, Dick Simmons! Ha! Pitiful little useless bird! Just think about what your Daddy would say! Hahaha!”_

Simmons whipped around, forcing his helmet off with shaking hands. Sweat was already building on his brow -- from what, he wasn’t entirely sure.

He dropped the helmet in favor of putting one hand over his chest and counting his breaths. Was that-- was that Genkins? What had he done?

A small whine escaped his throat, and he quickly clamped his jaw shut.

What was happening? Where was he? What the fuck was Genkins talking about? Had he just-- had he just thrown Simmons into the midst of a panic attack?

Of course he fucking knew what to do! He’d been having them since he was twelve, and this one was nowhere near his worst. Whatever the fuck Genkins thought he was doing was obviously some dumb bullshit--

“Simmons?”

He yelped and spun to face Grif.

Grif was entirely out of armor. He’d opted to let his hair down, not even bothering with his usual messy bun. His hands were stuffed deep in the pocket of his orange hoodie. His head was tilted, and he was frowning. “You okay there?”

“Fine!” Simmons squeaked. The expression Grif was wearing looked… forced. Unnatural.

Wait a goddamn second.

He stared down Grif for several seconds. The concerned expression didn't waver.

What the fuck?

Grif would never…

His heartbeat slowed down further. He swallowed and closed his eyes before mussing his hand into his hair. “This isn’t real,” he mumbled before opening his eyes. “You’re not real.”

He looked back up.

Grif moved robotically, one eyebrow lifting as though he was annoyed at having to put up with more of Simmons’ antics. Pfft, as though it wasn’t usually the other way around. “Uh huh. You sure you’re fine? Because that’s quite the accusation you just made.”

“Shut the fuck up,” he snapped. Then he lifted his hands and did a quick spin. “Fuck off, Genkins! You can’t keep me here! Everyone knows that once someone knows they’re in a fake world, they wake up! I’ve seen plenty of sci-fi movies! I’m gonna--”

“Dude, you look like an idiot.”

Simmons huffed and glared at Not-Grif. “Yeah, but it doesn’t matter. This isn’t real. I just… I just need to wake up and get out of here! It’ll be easy. Grif, slap me in the face!” He tapped his cheek twice in rapid succession and closed his eyes.

“Yeah, I’m not gonna do that.”

Simmons opened his human eye to level Grif with the most unimpressed look he could manage. It was one of his specialties. “Even fake-you wouldn’t miss out on an opportunity like this. Slap me.”

Grif sighed. “Simmons, you can’t wake up until you tell me the truth.”

“Whatthefuck?” Simmons straightened his back. “Wait, do you know that you aren’t real?”

He got an eye roll at that. “Look at me. Of course I know. What kind of idiot wouldn’t notice something as obvious as not being real?”

“Um,” Simmons offered intelligently and blinked. He brought a finger to his chin and studied Grif, wide-eyed and thoughtful. This… changed things. Grif still had on that indifferent face. “You… um. Well. Do you know how to get out?”

“Dude, I _literally_ just told you,” Grif drawled, and it sounded so much like the real him that something tore in Simmons' chest. It wasn’t real. This _wasn’t_ Grif. “You have to tell me the truth.”

Simmons narrowed his eyes. “That’s not helping.”

“Yeah, well, not my problem. I don’t give a rat’s ass if you’re stuck here. And if you don’t tell me, I’ll just take a nap. Win-win for me.”

“I-- ugh. I don’t even know what ‘truth’ you’re talking about! How can I get out if I don’t even know what the fuck it is?”

“Jesus Christ,” Grif said, bringing his hands to his face and pulling down at his cheeks. “It’s a fuckin’ secret, man, so obviously I don’t know what I’m talking about either. All I know is that you have to tell me the truth.”

“Figures -- you’re an unhelpful piece of trash no matter where--” Simmons' brain skirted to a stop, backtracking through Grif’s words. “Wait,” he offered lowly, “did you say it was a secret?”

“Yeah,” Grif said as though this was obvious, and Simmons could feel the blood drain from his face. “Telling the truth, exposing a secret -- same thing.”

“It is not the same thing!” Simmons said, his voice automatically going shrill. “Saying to tell the truth suggests that I lied to you--”

“It’s the same fucking thing, isn’t it.” Grif’s tone had gone completely flat, unfamiliar. His face was entirely neutral, and Simmons found himself taking a step back. “Lying and hiding what you are? Telling the truth and keeping a secret? In the end, they’re the same thing.” Grif took a step forward. “Whichever way it falls, you’re going to have to tell me if you want out of here.”

There was a buzzing in the back of Simmons' brain. “B- bullshit,” he snarled, but his tone was lacking any bite. “I don’t-- I don’t have to play these fucking mind games.” His voice was shaking as he said it.

“That’s the whole point,” Grif said, and it was back to normal, slouching and all. “How hard can it be? You just said I wasn’t real. What’s the big idea, you nerd?”

Simmons swallowed. It was true. It was true and he hated it because this wasn’t real but it felt real and that was all that mattered, wasn’t it? The semblance of realness? That was why it hurt that was why he was afraid

_“Dad, stop,” he said, but his voice was too quiet to be heard over his father’s boisterous laughter. Simmons’ plate was still untouched. His dad was holding a fork halfway to his mouth when he saw something on the news that triggered this._

_“Jesus Christ,” his dad said, shaking his head and wearing an almost rueful smile. Then he turned back around, eyes sparkling with twisted mirth as he looked on at his kids. “I don’t know what I’d do if one of you was a faggot like that,” he said with an ease that made Simmons’ gut twist and face heat with shame. “Imagine that?” He shook his head and chuckled. “Me with a faggot for a kid. I’d have to blow his head off, and then blow off my fuckin’ own!” Then his eyes landed on Simmons’ plate. “Boy, eat up. You need to gain some weight if you’re gonna make that football team.”_

_He wanted nothing to do with that._

_Mary, to his left, snickered at him._

_His face burned further. How could he ever tell his dad that he-- that he was--_

_“Yes, sir,” he said. He began eating._

“Fuck you,” he spat. “It’s not-- I can’t-- goddammit!” He growled, turning to kick his helmet.

It didn't go far, but he still felt a jarring pain on his foot. Power armor on power armor was never a good idea.

Genkins couldn’t do this to him.

He’d never said it before, so why the fuck did it have to be now? And why-- _why_ did it have to be to Grif?

“Fuck.” 

He looked back. Grif was still standing there, not even trying to look interested. “I don’t see the big idea,” he said, shrugging. “What’s so bad that you won’t tell me?”

“Shut-- shut up.” He couldn’t-- he couldn’t do this.

It was never supposed to be like this.

It was never supposed to happen, period.

“Dude, if it makes you feel any better, just pretend that you’re alone. I mean, I’m not even real anyway.”

He’d never even fucking told himself. Never said the words out loud, never even let the words filter explicitly through his thoughts.

“Get on with it. I mean, technically you have all day, but I’ma get real bored, real fast.”

He needed out of here.

If Genkins was doing this to him…

What was he doing to everyone else?

What was he doing to Grif?

He let a frustrated cry tear out of his mouth as he crouched down, forcing his eyes shut. Nononono. He-- he had to do this. What if-- what if they were getting hurt? What if they died just because he couldn’t fucking say one thing to a fake-person in a fake-world? 

“Simmons?” said Grif, and then his hand was on Simmons’ shoulder and it felt like fire and his whole body flinched because _he knew how he felt about Grif and he knew it couldn’t--_

He was shaking, shaking as Grif pulled back, pulled away from him like the real him would if he _just fucking knew--_

“Fucking _fuck_!” he said, standing back up and turning around in one horrible motion, his cheeks burning red and tears threatening to spill all because of _one fucking thing_ and Grif had the audacity to look almost startled and

“I’m fucking gay,” he said. His chest felt like it was burning from how fast his artificial heart was beating. His voice somehow wasn’t wavering, even as he knew his face would show anyone that he was in fucking disaster-mode. “I’m gay, and I’ve had a crush on the real version of you since we first fucking met and I couldn’t even tell my fucking dad that I was gay or even my-fucking-self or anyone because I’m fucked up and scared and I don’t even--” he clenched his teeth and whined, reaching up with both hands to pull at his hair as he lowered his face to look at the floor.

“Uh,” said Grif. He was silent for a full second after that before continuing with, “Okay,” his tone slow and deliberate at some attempt at fucking soothing which Simmons didn't get at all. Simmons looked up, still a fucking desperate mess, and Grif was eyeing him like he was a nervous stray dog. “We can figure that all out later,” he continued. Wait, what? What did he mean by later? “If it makes you feel any better, I’m… bi? So. Uh. Yeah. Definitely not homophobic.” 

Simmons blinked, his lips pinching in. “The real Grif is not fucking bisexual. What the fuck is this?” He whipped his head around. “You said I could leave if I told the goddamn truth! Well, congratu-fucking-lations, I fucking did it you piece of--”

“Simmons,” said Grif, and Simmons couldn’t help but turn right back around and look right back into those so-familiar mismatched eyes. “We _are_ leaving, okay?”

Simmons stared at Grif. Grif was still looking back him, each second leading to more and more concern in his eyes.

Wait.

Simmons drew back his shoulders.

_Wait._

Grif had… Grif had been wearing an orange hoodie before. His hair had been loose, unkempt.

Now he had on power armor, his helmet tucked under his left armpit, hair tied in a bun.

A wave of cold rushed through his whole body.

“Oh, God,” he whispered. “You’re the real Grif.”

“Yeah, um, I am. It’s totally cool!” he continued, but Grif was starting to look panicked. “If you want, we can totally ignore everything that you just--”

Simmons was still looking at Grif, but the sound faded to a dull hum. This couldn’t-- he couldn’t--

He just ruined everything.

Grif was never going to look at him the same way again. He’d just admitted that he’d liked him for over a decade and… 

Simmons jolted when Grif snapped his fingers right next to his ear. Instinctively, he grabbed the hand to brush it aside but

He drew his hand back like he’d been shocked. 

He’d just touched Grif’s hand right after he’d admitted--

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” said Grif, and then suddenly his hands grabbed his face and pulled it down to be at his level and

And Grif kissed him.

On the lips.

Simmons was too shocked to move, to do anything at all but let it happen because holy fucking shit

Then Grif drew back, face carefully indifferent as though he hadn’t just rocked Simmons whole fucking world in the space of two seconds. “We can talk about your daddy-issues or whatever later. Right now, we need to get the fuck out of here and save the world. Again.”

Simmons finally blinked. “I.”

“Yeah, I know. My kisses leave people speechless.” He still sounded so composed, but Simmons’ could make out the beginning of a blush where his skin was grafted to Grif’s own. “Now, c’mon.”

Grif held out his hand, waggling his fingers once for effect.

Simmons didn't give himself time to hesitate, to overthink it. He took Grif’s hand.

 

They had a universe to save, after all.

**Author's Note:**

> agh I almost doubled the length to explain how tf Grif got to Simmons but my goal was to finish under 2000 words so yike
> 
>  
> 
> First work for my Bad Things Happen Bingo challenge!
> 
> Send me an ask [here](https://not-madder-red.tumblr.com/ask) if you want to request a work to fill out my Bingo card (as specific or general as you want). Current version of my Bingo card can be found [here](https://not-madder-red.tumblr.com/post/185159385876/carolina-and-simmons-discuss-about-childhood)


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